by M. D. Cooper
“He’s…”
“Uhh…”
“You can…”
“See for yourself!” they both said in unison, and swept their hands toward the door. Macy took a deep breath and held it as Captain Spectacular stepped out of the room. She swooned on her feet at the sight of him. He should’ve been dead; killed by that damn Zom-Bee. What a lucky break they had gotten.
“Captain Spectacular, thank God you’re all right.” She grabbed his arm, but it felt strange. More solid than it used to…almost like metal.
Man, the guy is really beefy!
One of the doctors removed her hand. “He’s still setting. I mean, he’s still recovering. He’ll be back to himself in no time.”
Captain Spectacular put his hands on his hips and stood with a wide stance. His face twisted into an unnatural smile. “I am Captain Spectacular!”
Macy stared at him and slowly blinked her eyes. There was something really off about him. Poor guy must’ve really been through the wringer. “Captain, I’m glad you’re going to be okay. We’re facing some sort of Zom-Bee virus out there.”
“I know. I was there.” Captain Spectacular started walking forward, and, after Macy took in the sight of his beyond perky, hard ass, she rushed after him.
“Are you going to fight the bees?”
“Not yet. First I must address my people! They need to hear words of encouragement from Captain Spectacular and know the world will be okay. Because I, the one and only Captain Spectacular, am going to take care of them.”
He lifted his arm—Macy thought she heard a gear or motor spinning—and slid it over her shoulders. “I’m going to take care of you, too, Mary.” He grinned, his apple cheeks unnaturally high.
“It’s Macy.”
That’s weird; Captain Spectacular has never gotten my name wrong before. As far as I know, he never got anything wrong before.
As they stepped outside the hospital to address the people and the press, Captain Spectacular waved to his adoring crowd. “Hello, fellow humans! It is I, Captain Spectacular!” Macy had a bad, sinking feeling.
Something is wrong—it rattled her bones and gave her an aching chill. If Captain Spectacular is acting like this, what does it mean? How long will his recovery really take? Is he healthy enough to be up and walking around?
Captain Spectacular spoke into a reporter’s microphone, gesturing his arm in the air, far and wide. “And then they will press my socks, because I am Captain Spectacular, and I cannot save the galaxy, or even the world, with cold toes. Once armed with my trusty socks and fly swatters, I will seek out these vengeful bees and I will take care of them. I promise you that much!”
The crowd broke out into feverish applause, and Captain Spectacular took a step back, puffing out his chest, and angling his face to the side.
“Beautiful as always, Captain. Thank you.”
“Thank you!”
They really will applaud him for anything. Macy stepped forward and thought of touching is arm again, but pulled back at the last minute. “Captain, I should get you to headquarters. The space force is going to want to debrief you.”
Captain Spectacular abruptly held his palm out to her. “I don’t go anywhere without underwear, Macy Gray. It would be highly unsightly.” He leaned in close and whispered, “If you know what I mean.” He smiled, and his teeth sparkled with artificial brightness.
“Uhh…” Macy blinked her eyes. Is he serious? “I mean, they’ll want to apprise you of the situation? Give you critical mission information?”
“Mission information.” Captain Spectacular stroked his chin. “Yes…I need that. If I’m going to save the world again, I need all of that!” With a pump of his arms, he started a full on sprint across the street.
“Wait!” Macy charged after him, and it was all she could do to keep up. It ‘s like he has a motor, or something.
Chapter Eight
“Aggggghhhh!” People screamed as they ran to be clear of the Zom-Bee horde flying through the atrium of the town square.
Jim Jones had seen a swarm of bees in his day, but this was beyond that. Why, he saw a woman carried off by a trio of sunglasses-wearing bees; where they were taking her, he didn’t have the foggiest idea—and from his hiding spot behind a light post, he couldn’t exactly go follow her, either.
“This isn’t going to keep us hidden forever,” Steven commented from his crouched position behind a space garbage can with anti-stink technology.
“I’m just waiting for a break in the people getting killed by Zom-Bees, and then we’ll make a break for it.” Jim pointed across the boulevard. Down a way, after a slight left turn, against the backdrop of the ocean was a gleaming, golden building made of honey wax. It seemed to glisten in the sun and, while there wasn’t a door, Jim figured he could find a way in, one way or another. He was really betting on “another”.
Steven sighed. “That’s a long distance. We’re never going to make it if these bees don’t stop swarming.”
If only we could figure out how to get them to stop. If only…
A woman in a tight, red, full-body, spandex suit screamed and ran toward them. She glanced over her shoulder, and they saw she was being chased by a swarm of bees fifteen strong. The bees moved quickly, in perfect time, and were very close to her; soon they’d overtake her.
Soon…
She tripped and fell onto the concrete, her ass jiggling as the bees landed on her for a taste of her delicious blood—several piercing each butt cheek. If that isn’t a sign to get the heck out of Dodge, I had better go back to kindergarten.
To learn how to read.
The signs.
“Mort, you better keep your engines running. We might need to make a quick escape.”
“My engines are unfortunately already running,” Morticia sighed. “If we escape, what of the people of Earth?”
“Never mind them, this is us we’re talking about. We can settle on Uranus. Just like those damn bees!”
“You really are an SOB, Jim Jones. But at least you’re mine.”
Jones grinned at the affection in Mort’s voice and tugged on Steven’s collar, forcing him up to his feet. “Run. It’s time to move!”
“We could’ve helped that girl.”
Jim didn’t think so. They couldn’t save people on a case-by-case basis—they had to find a way to stop this thing once and for all. The Zom-Bees outnumbered them ten to one; the bastards could fly and communicated by contemporary dance.
They didn’t stand a chance.
Jones and Steven ran for the queen bee’s home inside the giant beehive. There was a lot of ducking and diving as bees swarmed after them. Jones pushed a few people out of the way, jumped over a bench, and turned to fire his laser gun at the bees. The beam bounced off the leader’s sunglasses and shot off in multiple directions, stinging multiple bees, and they fell to the ground. Their wings surged blue and their fuzzy bodies trembled, their legs twitching in the air.
“Lucky shot!” Steven called.
Luck? “I don’t have a lick of luck,” Jones retorted. “I’m not sure if I should take the compliment, or feed you to the bees.”
“You wouldn’t do that to your favorite cousin, would you?” Steven asked.
“Well, you are wearing a red shirt.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Steven asked.
Jones decided not to answer that question as they made it to the front door of the hive. There were no clear entry signs, no windows, no alarms—not even a damn welcome mat.
Now what the hell are we going to do?
“Start feeling around,” Steven suggested. “Maybe we can trigger some sort of secret panel that will open a door.”
Steven might’ve lost his mind, but Jones didn’t have any ideas, so he joined in.
Touching the outside of the hive was a sticky experience, and not one that he wanted to have any longer than necessary. Lucky for him, his phone rang.
“Keep feeling her up,” Jones
ordered, and flipped open his phone with a flick of his wrist.
Steven’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “You take a phone call now? The bees are going to notice us!”
Jones ignored him as he usually did. “Captain Jones, here.”
“Jones? This is Marty. Marty Mc—well, you know…the space dog vendor?”
“Marty?” Jones asked. “What’s this about? Are the space dogs in trouble?”
“No! Well, maybe. I’m not sure. The Space Bee beside me, I know I’m going to sound racist, but I beat him into submission with a hot dog. He attacked me, I didn’t have a choice—but he didn’t even seem…I mean, he attacked me, he did, but…”
“Marty, for god sakes, spit it out.”
Marty sighed. “He didn’t seem to realize what he was doing. He seemed as horrified as I was.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, he buzzed around. Buzzzzzzz. Did a little dance.”
Not the dance! “Listen, Marty, pack up your hot dogs and all those delicious condiments and get inside. There’s some sort of Zom-Bee virus going around, and I don’t want to see you or your product get hurt. All right? Let me handle this now.” Jones sucked in his breath and puffed out his chest.
“Okay, but is there even time to save my cart and supplies? This sounds serious.”
“Be a man, son,” Jones bellowed into the phone. “Be a man!”
Steven grabbed Jones by the scruff of his neck. “We aren’t going to be alive much longer if we don’t get into that hive!”
Jones glanced back and saw the storm cloud of Zom-Bees approaching. It sounded like a legion of helicoptering lawn mowers as they did their Zom-Bee synchronized dance in the sky.
They aren’t just coming for us; they’re calling for reinforcements!
“Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
Dammit, they’re coming!
At the last possible moment, Jones stuck his hand through the honey wall of the hive and slipped his whole body inside. He yanked Steven in behind him, and they both tumbled to the ground of the proud, stately building.
“Aghhh,” Steven groaned, “slicker than snot on a doorknob, Captain.” He rose to his feet and shook his hands; honey was sticking everywhere. “I don’t think I can even blink my eyes.”
Jones didn’t have time to complain. He was busy looking around at the honeycomb walls and the brightly lit floors. He peered down the hall and saw worker bees stockpiling honey into a fresh hexagon, and a bee standing at a reception desk as if waiting for something.
Could it be that the Space Queen Bee was waiting for Jim Jones himself?
Jones glanced back at Steven who gave him a dispassionate shrug. Is there anything he cares about other than his next hot meal? Adjusting his space jacket, Jones went over to the reception-bee and tapped his finger on the podium. “Excuse me, there…Mr.? Mrs.? I don’t know what the hell to call you.”
The bee looked up, a pen in its front leg. “Buzzzzz-zz.”
“Excuse me, Buzzzz-zzz, but I was here to---.”
The reception-bee flapped his wings and corrected Jones on his pronunciation. “Buzzzzz-zz.”
Jones blinked his eyes rapidly and splayed his fingers. “That’s what I said.”
“No,” Steven interrupted. “You said Buzzzz-zzz. That’s the bee we saw take down Captain Spectacular this afternoon.”
Jones thought about it, his tongue clicking on the inside of his mouth. “Are you sure about that? I could have sworn that was Buzz-zzz-z.”
The reception-bee shook his head emphatically and picked up a magazine he must have been reading. He held it out to Jones so he could see it. In a large font along the top it said ‘Playbee’, and there was a provocative spread in the middle of a fuzzy bee lying on a beach towel, her wings tucked behind her head.
It was wrong. Twenty ways to Sunday wrong. Jones prepared to tell Buzzzzz-zz that when the reception-bee started laughing and flapping its wings in time with some stinger thrusts. Jones got the implications and laughed, snapping his fingers at him. “I like your style, kid. As a ladies’ man myself—”
“If we can maybe get to the topic of the Zom-Bees,” Steven whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Right, of course. The mission. Jones took a deep breath. “We’re here to see the Queen-B. Is she around? We have some very important questions for her.”
Buzzzzz-zz laughed, slapping one wing down on the podium.
Jones’s temper was close to exploding. “Look, you might find that funny but we have a crisis on our hands. I don’t know how long you’ve been holed up here in this hive, but out there, it’s a real jungle!”
Buzzzzz-zz looked unconvinced.
“I’m Jim Jones, captain of the Barnburner. I saved the Earth from your kind not that long ago, and if I have to do it again, I will. Now, can I please see the Queen-B?”
Reception-bee tilted his head to the side, a confused look in all five of his beady little eyes.
“I don’t think he knows who we are or what a Barnburner is.”
“Figures,” Jones sighed. He didn’t have time for this conversation. He took out his can of Raid™ and soaked the reception-bee’s face and wings. Buzzzzz-zzz coughed, his wings flapping, until he collapsed tummy side up onto the ground.
Steven sucked in his breath as Jones bent over to inspect the body. “You just killed that bee in cold blood.”
“Nothing beats a dead bug. C’mon.” Jones jogged down the hall, and Steven wasn’t that far off, trotting behind him.
“They’re legal immigrants now; they have rights and protections. You can’t just—”
“Yeah, and when they stop trying to suck our faces off, then maybe I’ll care a little bit about what I do to them. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, Steven.”
Steven didn’t argue as they reached the outer throne room. The door had a picture of a sparkling tiara on it; Jones was sure this was it. “Be ready. If we know anything, it’s that the Queen-B can be a royal…well…you know what.”
Steven nodded. “A real B.”
Isn’t that the truth.
Jones pushed the door open and stepped inside a large room. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he took in the sight of the pink rug that led to a golden throne. Upon it sat the largest Space Bee he had ever seen. She wore a pink crown, held a scepter in her wings, and wore a thick gold chain around her neck that said ‘Queen B’.
“If she isn’t the bee’s knees, I don’t know what is,” Steven said in a hushed tone.
Jones wasn’t even sure she had knees. He swallowed hard as he approached, his nerves bubbling inside him.
“I come in peace to help both our kinds. Something is going on out there, Queenie, and I’m hoping you can tell me what.”
He noticed that Queen-B’s wings flinched when he called her ‘Queenie’ I won’t do that again.
“Bees are going rabid, drinking the blood of humans,” he explained. Is this all part of your plan to take us over?”
Queen B shook her head and buzzed sadly, staring at the floor.
“She doesn’t know what’s going on any more than we do,” Steven interpreted.
“The sunglasses your bees are wearing,” Jones continued. “I think they’ve been modified to change you. To change all the bees that wear them. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”
Another headshake and they would be spit out of luck—but Queen-B got off of her throne, grabbed a honey stick off the wall, and began to draw something on the floor.
Jones tilted his head as he studied it.
“Looks like the layout to my apartment,” Steven muttered.
“That’s the docks. You think someone on the docks is out to get you bees, and modified the sunglasses?”
Queen-B nodded and then she wrote the number thirty-three on the floor. It must be the number on the building, or something important. I’d stake my life on it.
“Steven, let’s go. Do you have a rear entrance on t
his thing, Queenie? No offense, but if I go out and get caught in a swarm of Zom-Bees, this is going to be a real short investigation. As in ‘we’re dead and you’re on your own, sister’.”
She nodded, standing in front of her throne. She lifted an old school boombox onto her shoulders, and rap music pulsated through the speakers as Queen-B led them out the back of the throne room and into the heart of the hive.
Thousands of honeycombs were filled with honey. Maybe even millions. That wasn’t all; some were occupied with larvae—growing, giant larvae that one day would turn into giant bees. If they didn’t figure out this Zom-Bee problem before the larvae were ready to come out of their honeycombs, Earth would be doomed.
The trio came to a set of stairs that led to a rear door. There was a red sign above that read ‘Buzzz’; in this case, Jones was taking that buzz to mean ‘Exit’.
“Thank you, Queen-B. For what it’s worth, you’re nothing like what people say. You’re not a B at all.” Jones chucked her gently on the chin, and a moment later, Queen-B was showing them out into the rear alley.
Unfortunately there was a gang of Zom-Bees outside, revealing dripping fangs, looking ravenous.
Well, this is going to be a problem.
Chapter Nine
Captain Spectacular was acting a little bit more full of himself than usual; while Macy worshipped the ground he walked on, she was getting a bit miffed. No, truffled. The planet was overrun by killer Zom-Bees, which they had let in willingly; she wanted to go out there and kick some Zom-Bee booty, not sit around and listen to Captain Spectacular gloat about how amazing he is.
But, God, his teeth shine.
Captain Spectacular bent down to study the map that was displayed before him by the generals and admirals. With his hands on his hips, he ‘hmmm’ed.
“So, what you’re saying is, that I, Captain Spectacular, will be instrumental in this plan to defeat the evil bees?”
The generals in the room all glanced at each other. “That’s exactly what we’re saying, Captain. But first, we have to get the citizens of Earth to safety. Bees hate smoke; if we can flood the public areas with smoke, the bees should succumb to it and calm down long enough for us to save the people, give them time to get away.”